by Sheralyn Welch

Created on: January 30, 2009

Last night I decided to go straight to the source and ask Satan whether or not he wrote the Bible. This was difficult, since Satan is not easy to get a hold of. His schedule is crowded and seems to have grown moreso, what with all the unprecedented upheaval in the world (or what we perceive to be so).

He agreed to talk with me, as long as I kept the interview down to 15 minutes. He had dozens of e-mails and phone messages to answer. And he had fallen behind on Twitter and Facebook.

I got right to the point and asked him: Did he write the Bible?

"First of all," he said as he lit his fourth cigarette, "I would never waste time writing the Bible. I know what I need to get done, and I do it. There's no point in writing it all down so that a bunch of morons can misinterpret what I'm saying, hashing and rehashing it to death. Wreaking havoc is a lot easier when you don't have to do it by committee. I tried to tell your God that, but he seems to think he knows human nature better than I do. Which (he took a couple of more drags here) remains to be seen. And by the way, what idiot is asking this question?"

Since I only had a few minutes of Satan's time left, I didn't bother explaining where the question came from. I pressed on.

"So," I said, "you're saying that you didn't write the Bible. And clearly, you don't have much respect for its premise. So why do you suppose that millions upon millions of people read it and believe in it?"

"Well," he said, "I think it has a lot to do with when it came out. There was no TV, or YouTube, no iPod, no computers, no Jay Z or Beyonce-nothing else to waste time doing. What the Hell (something I know about) was there to do but read? And in terms of story line, even I have to admit, there's plenty of good material there." Here, he grinned widely. "I mean, look at all the movies that were made from that book. The receipts from films like "The Ten Commandments" were nothing short of amazing.

I pointed out to him that there have been plenty of successful devil and Hell movies. He agreed.

"I really enjoyed Rosemary's Baby. I felt that Roman Polanski really understood what I'm trying to accomplish."

And what, I asked, is that?

"I want people to doubt the existence of God and to forget about this eternal happiness crap. I mean, if I can't have it, why should they? And look at all the sacrifices you have to make to be in (he choked here) Heaven. After all, who's to say that Heaven is any better than a few hours in a hot tub?"

"So," I said, "you acknowledge that there is a Heaven?"

He lit another cigarette and asked me if I wanted a puff; I declined.

"No, I didn't say that. I'm just saying that it's all relative."

At this point, Satan's Blackberry started buzzing.

"God," he said with a wink, "this thing never stops. Anyway, I've gotta get out of here. I've got a bunch of Wall Street guys i've got to see. I never thought I'd see the day when I could take lessons on being me from anyone else. But these guys are amazing."

He shook my hand, which worried me; it hadn't been the first time.

"So," he said, "is your next interview with God to get his point of view? He's pretty compelling, so watch out."

"No," I replied, "but I think I will head over to church."

"I'd love to join you," he said, "but you know how it is."

"Yeah," I said. "Thank God."

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